Thorn Around the World
"The Payne in Spain"
My fortieth day abroad didn't start early. The night before was so filled with darts, beers and new friends that I needed to sleep in, happy to be tucked into my private room in my short term apartment while the rest of Barcelona bubbled to life outside. By noon, I woke to find Bozkurt-my roommate and a Turkish filmmaker from Istanbul-busily working on his latest screenplay. I promised to help him edit the English version. Boz woke me up with a thick cup of Turkish coffee, a quick hangover cure, and we got to work rewording and reworking the scenes. The story is about a man searching for the truth about his life and lost love, for himself, his father, and his fragmented family. It ends in Iceland, where my journey began, which gives it a little more meaning to me. If it gets produced, maybe I'll even be in the credits!
After a few hours of writing with Boz, it was time to get back to my usual kind of fun-playing darts in a foreign city. Without time or need for sightseeing that day, I ambled to the subway and popped up at the George Payne for another evening of tungsten and Estrella beers. Boz showed up later to join me, and we made more new friends fast. Hours went by like minutes, playing dozens of games with Boz, Keith and crew, and a a bunch of newbies. We drank, ate, spied on football matches, and had a raucous good time. But that evening, Boz had other plans-a local friend invited him to hit the dance clubs in a hip waterfront barrio of Barcelona. Now, I'm not big on dancing or loud crowded discos so packed you can't talk, but Boz was my new pal and I couldn't pass up another new travel experience. So, I tagged along.
Around ten o'clock, we darted from George Payne, walking the streets past more monuments and under famous arches, until we rendezvoused with his friends at a plaza. We followed them to the club, past stylish shops and eateries and plenty of posh pedestrians, having a conversation of Spanglish gibberish that sufficed as communication. The place was packed with pretty people, all dressed up for a night on the town, drinking and laughing. I stayed a few hours, enjoying the music and people watching, but eventually left Boz to finish the evening with his friends.I needed another good night's sleep.
The next day, and the next, and the next, were similar. I'd get up mid morning, Boz and I would cook some breakfast, and dive into editing his screenplay for a few hours, taking Turkish coffee breaks on the tenth story balcony of our apartment. The script was over a hundred pages and we put in a lot of effort to get through it all before I had to leave for Palma de Mallorca. But, we still found time to keep touring the city, which we did, again and again, by bus and foot. I even got some official press passes from the local office of tourism! And, of course, each evening I'd be back at the George Payne to play and promote the sport, making more friends from around the world, and taking more pictures of every bull or big shot that mattered and made us all cheer.
On my last full day in Barcelona-the weather finally started to turn from pleasant sun and soft breeze to a dark storm pushing in off the Mediterranean. Boz and I completed his screenplay that afternoon, and Boz wanted to celebrate with a great dinner somewhere. We wound up on the water's edge, where several restaurants line the beach. We savored an amazing steaming seafood combination, watching the ominous storm move in, complete with lightning and howling wind, and toasting to the completion of his script. Boz already had several appointments set up with Spanish movie producers.
Afterward, we found our way through the rain to the subway train and the George Payne for one last night of darts mania. As usual, it was a blast, but a bit bittersweet, knowing this would be the last time I'd see my new friends in Spain. Keith and the whole crew were there-both on duty or off-and Tony, manager of the national darts team of Catalonia, was there too. Soon, one of his teammates arrived along with a reporter from a local radio show, and they broadcast a live interview from within the bar! Naturally, it was about the rise of darts popularity in Spain, the team's adventure to the World Cup, and new places to play like the George Payne. Happily, I played with Keith as we both eavesdropped on the interview, smiling at the things being said, knowing that the sport of darts was growing in Barcelona.with a little help from us.
As midnight approached, the melancholy feelings of goodbye began to sink in, and I made sure to repeatedly express my appreciation to the entire staff at the George Payne, for welcoming me and making my time in Barcelona all the more marvelous. After ten days, Keith and I had become close friends, and we knew we'd stay in touch. Nonetheless, the final handshakes and waves outside the George Payne left me feeling a little loss. My time in Barcelona was one of those experiences you wish would never end.
Over and double out.